While Dorian was having breakfast the next morning Basil Hallward came to see him.
"At last I’ve found you, Dorian," he said seriously. "I came last night but they told me that you’d gone out to dinner with friends. I knew that wasn’t true, of course. I wanted to tell you how sorry I was about Sybil Vane. Poor girl."
"My dear, Basil," said Dorian, he looked bored. "I was at Lord Henry’s house last night. That was a very amusing evening."
Basil stared at him. "You went out to dinner," he said slowly. "You went out to dinner when Sybil Vane was lying dead in some dirty theatre."
"Stop, Basil. I won’t listen to you." Dorian jumped to his feet. "Sybil Vane is in the past, finished, forgotten."
"You’ve changed, Dorian," said Basil. "You have the same wonderful face but where is the kind and gentle boy who sat for my portrait? Have you no heart?"
"Yesterday my heart was full of sadness. I have cried for Sybil, yes. But I cannot cry today. I have changed, Basil. I’m a man now with new feelings, new ideas. Don’t be angry with me. I am what I am. There’s nothing more to say."
Basil watched him sadly. "Well, Dorian," He said at last, "I won’t speak of poor Sybil again. But will you come and sit for another portrait soon?"
"No, never," said Dorian quickly. "It’s impossible."
"But why?" asked Basil very surprised. "And why have you covered the portrait?" He walked across the room towards the painting. Dorian cried out in fear and ran between Basil and the portrait. "No, Basil. You must not look at it. I don’t want you to see it." His face was white and angry. "If you try to look at it, I’ll never speak to you again."
The artist stared at him. "Why can’t I look at my own work?" he asked. I’m going to exhibit it in an art gallery in Paris soon."
Dorian tried to hide his fear. "But you said… you told me that you would never exhibit the picture. Why have you changed your mind?"
He came closer to Basil and looked into his face. "Tell me, why" he said. Basil turned away. After a while he said slowly "I see you too have noticed something strange about this picture."
"Dorian, you changed my life as an artist from the moment when I met you. You became very important to me. I could not stop thinking about you.  And when I painted this portrait I felt that I put too much of myself into it. I could not let other people see it." He was silent for a moment, then turned back to Dorian. "Perhaps, you are right. I cannot exhibit this picture. But will you let me look at it again?"
"No, never." The artist smiled sadly.
"Well, I’ve told you my secret now, try to understand me, Dorian. You‘ve been the one person in my life who has really influenced my art."
As he left the room Dorian Gray smiled to himself. What a dangerous moment that had been. Poor Basil. Although he’d told his own secret, he had not discovered Dorian’s secret. But the picture, he must hide it away at once. No one must ever see it again.
He had the covered portrait carried upstairs to a small room at the top of the house. Then he locked the door and kept the key himself. He felt safe now because only his eyes would see the terrible changes in that beautiful face. When he returned to the room downstairs he picked up a book that Lord Henry had lent him.
He sat down and began to read. It was the story of a Frenchman who had spent his life searching for beauty and pleasure, pleasure of all kinds, both good and bad. Dorian read for hours. It was a frightening book, full of strange ideas and dangerous dreams. Dreams, that slowly became real for Dorian. Dorian read this book many times. In fact, he could not stop reading it. And over the years it became more and more interesting to him. He felt that the Frenchman’s life was a mirror of his own.